The Weaker They Are
by Whiffles
Summary: ...the louder they bark.    And Amy can only take so much of it before she ends up killing herself over it.
1. The Cure

****Alright, I'm super satisfied with this one, just had to throw that out there. It's finished, but it won't be entirely uploaded until later this week. I don't upload things that aren't finished (anymore lol). I'd have it all uploaded tonight if I could, but I have too much to do and my internet is really slow and keeps kicking me offline at random times :( ... so sorry about that, but please enjoy what I have so far. Also, this is my 14th upload :D So that has to be a good thing. 14 is a good number to me :)****

"Amy!" Raphael makes his entrance known as he addresses the teen. "I'm home darling, and I have something." He looks down at the noticeably shorter redhead, embracing her as he always does when returning to her.

"What is it?" she inquires, her glowing red eyes meeting those of the much older man standing before her. Her expression becomes blank when he retrieves the sheathed syringe from his purple sleeve, presenting it to his young companion.

"Drugs? What are you doing with that?" Amy angrily assumes, snatching the syringe from Raphael's battle-scarred hand, not knowing what to do with the strange object.

"It's a cure," Raphael announces, followed by a confusing silence. "I want you to have it. If only one of us can have a normal, healthy life, I want it to be you."

She stares at the syringe for a moment before responding to the golden-haired man. "No."

"Amy, I've been trying to find this cure for nearly a year. The least you could do is take it."

"I can't do that unless you take it too," the hesitant girl states.

"I will, sweetheart," he responds. "I'll find more of this, but please just take this one for now," he begs.

She takes her eyes away from the syringe to look up at her protector. "Okay," she gives in finally, "Where does it go?"

Of course she could never tell Raphael her true intentions. If there were any chance that there was no more of this cure, she wanted Raphael to be taken care of. Even if it meant giving up her own blood on a regular basis. She had already lost her parents, so she couldn't easily lose the only living person to ever show her kindness and love.

He takes the syringe from Amy. "You aren't going to want to see this."

Without question, her red eyes shut tightly, and her heart rate increases when Raphael quickly pulls down her off-the-shoulder dress, only hairs away from exposing her bare breasts. He pulls on the laces of her favorite dress until it falls to her feet. The excitement eases the pain of the syringe piercing her skin and slowly entering her heart, but not for long. It hurts, and she lets out a soft cry, although the sound doesn't come close to reflecting the pain she feels.

"It's alright now, Amy. The worst part is over," he whispers softly as he carefully removes the syringe from her chest. The blood tickles down her chest, and she refuses to open her eyes.

"You can open your eyes now," he tells her, compressing her chest with a light rag, having a secret desire to use the rag as a snack after the bleeding stops.

She reveals her newly regained green eyes to the older man, whose hand is still wrapped in a bloody cloth pressed firmly against her chest. She stumbles to the left, nearly fainting. If it weren't for Raphael's support, she might end up on the floor. Raphael pivots to the bleeding girl's back, holding her tightly against him by the chest and waist. He slides against the nearest wall, his back facing the solid cold, and gently guides her down with him. Her back faces his stomach and she struggles to breathe, choking on tears of pain.

"Breathe deep," he instructs the obedient young lady, calming her by lightly stroking her hair. "I'm sorry love, I know it hurts," he whispers into her ear. Her tears fall to the already dampened cloth surrounding the vampire's hand, so he doesn't feel it in the least bit. She gasps for air, encouraged to continue breathing deeply. He continues to calm her down, rocking her from left to right and back until the pain subsides and the bleeding stops.


	2. A Normal Life

That was the first and last time Raphael had caused her pain. She knew it was because he only wanted what was best for her, but she often questioned what it was that was best for her. To be sick, but live forever? Or to be healthy and live a normal, yet finite life? The mature teenager had come to accept death easily, but after her death, she wondered how Raphael would carry on. She knew he would miss her painfully, which weighed heavily on her desire to lose, once again, her fated mortality. After all, he accepted her when nobody else would. He accepted her as a child, as an orphan, as a liar, as a vampire and as a mortal. She was certain there was nothing that could tear her away from the caring man.

Nothing... except the possibility of death. She often thought it wasn't fair that Raphael would live possibly forever without her. He never did find any more of the serum which so painfully cured her. But she knew he wouldn't be so selfish as to choose to end her life before his; he didn't want her to continue suffering the way he was. After all, he still was looking for a cure for himself, even though he knew it would eventually end his life. And after she had received the cure, he had been more protective of her than ever before to keep her out of harm's way.

Still, she hoped that one day, he would transform her back. She often thought of a way to force him into doing it, too. She knew if she was on the brink of death, it would be the only way to keep her alive, and he would do it, but she had never acted on this. She wanted it to be fair, although it seemed he wasn't being so.

Being a vampire was anything but a normal life. There had been times where the two of them simply couldn't find enough blood, and became so weak they couldn't talk. Several times, Amy had fainted.

Furthermore, vampirism had turned the world against them, if it wasn't bad enough being human. If the world could not accept them as vampires, it could not accept them as people. And if the world could not accept them, they could not accept the world.

Even so, the guilt pained her conscience whenever she got what she needed from someone; she was no better than they were. But as time began to run out for her diseased life, she had become almost indifferent to this. Despite it all, she grew stronger for Raphael's sake. Reflecting on her outcast life with her caretaker, she sometimes believed that the victims of their disease deserved their ends, if not for their condemnation, then for another wrongdoing. This convinced Amy even further that the serum was the wrong choice. How could she choose to be something she hated?

However, as soon as her mortality had been restored, her body continued to develop into that of a woman's. This delighted her, as her breasts had grown a full cup size within the past year and her breast-waist-hip ratio had become more distinct. She loved to flaunt this, hoping that one time, her foster father would look at her in a more mature way. She knew Raphael couldn't help but notice, especially with the rate at which she needed a new bra, which he was questioningly happy to buy for the growing girl.

She wondered if Raphael looked at her in a sexual way, since he had never come right out and said anything. Certainly he had thoughts though; she no longer had a child's body. He never showed signs of discomfort as the teenager pranced around in such little clothing. Now at the tender age of sixteen, she often admired her new body and wondered what she could do with it. Or better yed, what _he_ could do with it. If possible, she and Raphael had grown especially close lately, but with nothing romantic having been established.

However, Amy always felt a curious satisfaction when she bled. He would always clean it up within seconds. So many times had his tongue slid across her gentle body, and she didn't mind. The sight of her own blood excited her in a sexual manner because she knew what would soon follow.

Which is exactly why she now found herself in the most unusual, yet exciting and nervous situation.

"I said you didn't have to fix it right now. Go to bed," Raphael tells the sleepy worker who mends his torn shirt.

"I really don't mind," the young girl responds with heavy eyes, trying hard to get the needle through a tough piece of fabric, poking herself sharply on the lip when she finally pulls it through. "Ow!"

Raphael looks to his left on the sofa where the injured girl sits. He sees a thin line of blood dripping from the right side of her bottom lip, watching the sleepy girl grow irritated.

"You really need to be more careful, love," he reminds Amy, taking the needle and thread from her before holding her chin to look at him. For such a small puncture, it really is a lot of blood. He licks the edge of her lip, taking in the sweet taste of her. When the blood continues to release from her body and licking it clean becomes useless, the blonde sucks the wound until nothing more comes out.

What Amy loved about being human and living with a vampire was that there were no boundaries whatsoever when she bled. None. And it didn't matter where she bled, or how much blood was lost, or what caused her injuries. He immediately sucked it all up, without even asking her, and she never seemed to mind.

He pulls back, examining the girl's face, dry but a little red from the pressure of his lips. She hopes the handsome vampire doesn't notice her face burning bright red, her body secretly aching for him. Even though it wasn't a kiss, the fact that he tasted her lips excited her more than anything, and she becomes frustrated now that he had stopped.

Nevertheless, she is happy to feed the vampire.


	3. Regret

Amy cries out in frustration of her rapidly growing body. "This isn't fair!" she screams to herself, hoping Raphael isn't around to witness such odd behavior, although she knew if he was around, he wouldn't be able to stay away from her. _How annoying_, she thinks to herself, searching her room for something to soak up the blood flowing between her legs more effectively. She finds an old pair of dark blue panties that don't fit her anymore since her hips widened, but she is thankful she held onto them now. She folds it and places it between herself and the pair of panties she has on, just moments before she hears Raphael approaching her room. Of course, she loved his attention but not at this particular time. He was always drawn to her blood, no matter how much or where it came from. This made her very self-consious and nervous to the point where she started leaving the house for days at a time, but Raphael was always one step ahead of her. He knew it was coming before she did. She tried to keep track of her cycle as best as she could, but being a teenager with a fairly new and irregular one made it useless to even try when Raphael could smell it days in advance. There was no getting around it.

She dries her freshly rinsed hands on a thick, clean towel and greets Raphael, speechless.

"Going somewhere?" he asks knowingly.

"...No," she answers, not sure where or how she could leave now, being in Raphael's presence.

"Liar," he teases, sitting down on her bed. Her lies never bothered him. He was the only one who saw through them, and if it weren't for her lies, they never would have ended up being so close. He tosses a familiar bottle of juice in her direction. "Here. You'll need this today."

She catches the contained liquid, feeling a bit embarassed.

"Stop doing that!" she scolds, unappreciative. Her face burns bright red with quick embarassment and anger.

"Doing what? I'm just making sure you have enough energy. I know how tired you get when-"

"Stop it! I don't want to think about _you_ thinking about _that_. It's weird. I can get it myself, you know." She quickly clutches on to her side, immediately losing her grip on her drink. She contracts the middle of her body to lessen the sudden, sharp pain, moaning in discomfort.

"Are you alright?" he asks her, rushing to her side.

"I'm FINE!" she insists rather angrily, unmoving with her hand on the side of her stomach as if it stops the pain. She rises to her feet, heading toward her bed when she trips.

"You can get it yourself?" he mocks the weak girl whose knees land on the floor before him. She growls at his ironic comment and stands up, still shaking, helped to her bed by Raphael. "I don't know why you keep insisting on leaving the house when you're this weak. What you need is to rest. Let me take care of you, sweetheart."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she scowls at the much older man, who kisses her forehead.

"Your mood swings are cute." He means this in all honesty, but Amy never takes him seriously. She simply takes this as one more way to embarass her during that time of the month. This actually infuriates her, because she never tries to be cute when she bleeds, but she always comes to her senses when it's over. She always realizes how illogical she can be. If it weren't for these realizations, Raphael wouldn't be so playful with her.

She lets out a low groan and rolls to her side, facing away from Raphael, still holding her side.

"Do you need anything?" he checks, noticing how weak and hurting she is.

"I want my juice!" she cries out. He picks up the fallen sugary drink and returns it to Amy.

"Thank you," she manages to say as she brings herself to sit up and drink it. Her back rests against the wall, the rest of her, limp. He watches her from the edge of her bed. "Did you find any more?"

"This was all they had," he responds softly.

"I'm not talking about the juice," she weakly states before laying back down. "The cure?"

"No."

"...I don't want to be human anymore." An odd silence fills the room after she says this.

"You're only saying that because you feel sick. Don't forget how sick you became when you first became a vampire. That lasted for months," he points out, quickly being argued.

"No! I never wanted to be human again! What's the point? I'm just going to die someday. I'd rather suffer forever if it means staying with you!" the moody teenager blurts.

"Why didn't you just tell me that, Amy?" he asks after a moment of silence.

"Someone has to take care of you," she vaguely adds, yet a very straightforward answer it is, coming from her.

"I can take care of myself," he reminds, a bit confused, which shows in his face.

"What if you starve to death in the middle of nowhere?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything. I would do anything for you. Even if that means literally having the blood sucked out of me to save-"

"Amy! Don't talk like that!"

"It's true."

"No, it's not. You know I would never hurt you."

She thinks of the scar on her chest, but says nothing. She knows that isn't what he means, and besides, he did it because he thought it was in her best interest. Whether or not it actually was, didn't matter. Only his intentions mattered, and she knew this.

"Then turn me back," she demands, staring him in his glowing, charismatic eyes relentlessly. "Otherwise I'll just turn into dust. I know you don't want that."

"Amy... you're absolutely right. But it would be selfish of me to want you to go through that kind of suffering just because of how I feel. And I know you may feel this way now, and I don't doubt that you do, but I suggest you think it over. We may never find more of the cure, and if that's the case when I turn you back, you may end up really regretting it."


	4. Better Than Blood

After six agonizingly long days, Amy regains her strength. She never did leave the house, and neither did Raphael. She was under his constant attention, which she didn't seem to mind this time. Even though she hadn't noticed any more blood loss, he still wouldn't leave her alone.

She loved the attention, but hated when it came with her monthly bleeding. She knew he preferred her blood over anyone else's, ironic as it may be, and even though he refused to take it unless she was already injured, she loved that he was so affectionate toward _her_ blood.

Which is why she had a secret ritual that only she knew of. Raphael would never find out unless he transformed her back, or if she died. Of course, she lied to Raphael because she didn't want him to know about it. At least not right away.

What she always told him was that she needed to work off all the energy she couldn't work off while she was bleeding. Which was true, but not her primary reason for leaving.

"I'll come with you," he says this time, catching the secretive girl off guard.

"I kind of want to go alone," she returns without an explanation.

"But you always go alone, sweetheart. Let me go with you this time," he insists, and notices her hands behind her back when she doesn't respond. "What are you holding?"

"Nothing." Not convinced by the girl's answer, he swiftly jerks both of her arms in front of her and watches a knife fall to the ground between them.

"A knife?" he questions, suddenly showing something resembling anger in his tone. "Tell me what you plan on doing with that!"

"I can't tell you that. I'm sorry," she apologizes, walking away from Raphael, but he grabs her by the wrists and holds them in place behind her back. "Let me go!"

"No!" he argues, gripping both of her wrists in his right hand as the dominant one reaches across her flat belly, hidden underneath her black lacey dress. "Not until you tell me why you were planning on leaving with that knife!"

"I'll tell you if you let go of me."

"Again with the lies, Amy? Are you sure you're even well enough to go out on your own?"

"I'm fine," she says, irritated, but no longer trying to escape his grasp.

"You have the energy? You're done bleeding?" he continues his concern for Amy. Embarrassed once again, she grunts and does not respond in any other way.

"Maybe I should double check," his voice reaches her ear from behind. Before Amy can say a single word, his hand reaches the inner side of her left thigh, forcing it away from its counterpart, and he brings himself back up to her pantyline before making his entrance.

She feels her heart almost ready to explode in secret excitement as his long middle finger slides further inside her, slowly. Now she starts to panic internally but shows no signs of it. Realizing she exposes not just her body but also her feelings, she begins breathing heavily as Raphael explores the inside of her body. He would soon know the secret she had been hiding for years, but never could put the right words together.

She wants him.

"What's this?" he remarks, feeling the warm wetness between her legs. His finger slides out, taking with it a thick coating of her bodily fluid that isn't blood. Tempted by the sweet smell, he leans his face over Amy's shoulder, brings his hand up to it, and licks the fluid off his finger. "Mm... even better than blood."


	5. I'll Stop If You Do

"I'll tell you, but I want something in return if I do," Amy addresses the man who penetrated her and swallowed her liquid just days ago.

"Tell me what?" he sits up in his bed to face the talking young girl.

"What I was doing with the knife," she responds as she sits beside Raphael. Relieved that she was opening up to him, he looks her attentively in the eyes. "But I need you to promise me that you'll give me what I want in return before I ask for it."

"Why should I-"

"You'll know why when I tell you! And I can't keep doing it!" She doesn't know what to say next.

"Okay," Raphael agrees to give her what she wants, determined to know what's bothering her so he can make it better. The troubled girl decides it must be easier to simply show him. She pushes a single sleeve up, revealing scars from the many times she had drawn blood for Raphael's sake.

"Amy! Why-"

"Because as long as I'm human, I don't see why I _shouldn't_ be giving you my blood. It would be selfish of me not to... I'm so tired..."

"Why would you do something so foolish?" he raises his tone to her.

"I... I just wanted you to-"

"Stop worrying so much about me, Amy," he sighs. "I'm the one looking out for you, remember?"

"Maybe you should let me take care of myself," she replies hostily.

"Take care of yourself? You call this-" he grabs her scarred arm, loosely flinging it throughout its demonstration, "taking care of yourself? Look at what you've done to yourself, Amy."

She pulls her arm back, nearly dropping her entire body with the force it takes her to do so. "Stop trying to be my father. I know what I'm doing."

"What I am to you has nothing to do with my concern for you. But alright, I'll stop being your father if you stop acting like a child," he returns.

"I'm sixteen years old! And I'm human, thanks to you! What else do you expect from me?" she accepts her teenage irrationality with pride. "And you know what? I like being a teenager."

Raphael doesn't believe her, but he follows up anyway. "I like being your father."

This leaves her completely speechless and she shies away, covering her scarred arm.


	6. Punishment

She sits alone in the large, dimly-lit dining room. The chill of the polished wooden table beneath her passes through the silk of her black nightgown, giving her goosebumps. She takes another drink from the small glass of water in her left hand. Her left leg crosses over the right one, while her free hand rests at the edge of the table. The scars on her arm are barely noticeable in the dark, even to Raphael, whose vision had been trained to see almost perfectly without much light. He stops as he enters the dining room, surprised to see Amy sitting on the table before him.

Normally he would tell her to sit in a chair and not slouch, but looking at the scantily clad teenager, something overcomes the older vampire. She looks sexy.

"You're still up?" he greets the nocturnal young lady as she swallows the last bit of water, setting aside the empty glass.

"I've been up for a while," she informs him, now setting both hands on the edge of the table, leaning slightly forward in his direction. Raphael's back presses against the cold wall facing Amy, and he stares lustfully at the sitting girl. Although Amy's night vision isn't nearly as enhanced as Raphael's, she senses his gaze piercing through her, and this makes her nervous. She refrains from showing a devious smirk creep up on her lips, knowing exactly what to say, except that he speaks first.

"I'm sorry," he gently says. "I'm sorry for the hurtful things I said to you earlier. I hope you can forgive me for that."

"I already have," she smiles at him in the dark. He smiles back. He leans in to kiss her forehead, his way of saying that everything is alright. Her arms wrap around his waist and she buries her face into him. Neither of them could ever stay upset with the other, no matter how heated a disagreement they may find themselves in. He returns this sweet gesture and embraces the young girl.

"You were right though, daddy." She hadn't called him this in years, which confuses him since not too long ago, she wanted him to stop being her father. He responds when the two bodies start to separate.

"Right about what?" he asks, ignoring this label, not sure where she's going with this.

"I have been acting like a child, especially lately," she confesses, "and I should start acting like an adult."

"Don't take anything I say too seriously," he whispers. "You're perfect just the way you are."

She leans slightly backward, supporting her body with her arms behind her. "I don't think so."

"How can you think that?" Raphael questions.

"Well, because. Whether you meant it or not... I do need to act more like an adult," she answers, uncrossing her legs and slowly pushing herself forward. "And I'm ready to take that first step."

"I see. Well, whatever you choose to do, I give you my full support."

"Good," she deviously replies, turned on by his clueless response. "Come here."

The blonde steps closer toward the girl sitting on the table, and she straightens out her body, making her face closer to his. Her legs start to separate as he nears her, and he notices how nervous she seems. His hands rest aside her on the cold surface, but he remains silent for a few moments.

"So, what is your first step?" he quietly asks her, trying to contain his perversion. Never before had he been this close to Amy without it being because of an injury. That she wanted him this close without any open cuts on her made Raphael have thoughts that he'd had before, but never really thought they would happen. But now, he was certain his wants and desires for the young girl would soon surface.

"I think you know," she nervously answers as her hands leave the table and near Raphael's neck. Her legs now firmly wrap around both sides of Raphael, pulling him to her.

Slowly, his fingers intertwine with Amy's hair, gently massaging her scalp as she sweetly leans in closer to kiss his lips. What starts out as a sweet, innocent and gentle kiss almost immediately escalates to heated passion of desire between the two. His hands rest on her smooth legs, hiking up her short nightgown as far as it goes without actually lifting anything. Her wanting lips crash into his, leaving the both of them almost breathless. Nested perfectly between her legs, he pulls down the thin straps atop her shoulders, leaving a trail of kisses, along with Amy's panting, from her neck to her bare shoulder and back up again. Her back meets the table as Raphael's lips overpower her. He holds her down with his hands pressed against hers as his head sneaks between her legs, kissing up the insides of her thighs. Excitement drips from Amy's body onto the table and Raphael soon presses his warm, soft lips and tongue against her bare entrance, much to his surprise and delight.

"Mm, no panties?" he remarks deliciously in response to her lack of clothing, but she breathes too heavily to say anything back.

She squirms with desire but he holds her down, hands disconnecting from hers to relocate to her abdomen while he licks her, drawing out moans from her sweet lips he'd often dreamed of hearing. He warms her area by cupping her with his warm mouth and finally slides into her, licking up those sweet, constantly replenishing fluids he had consumed earlier that week. Her moans tempt him even further, and his tongue swirls inside her faster in response to these beautiful sounds. To Amy, this seems to go on for hours and she grows impatient, although enjoying his tongue.

"Please..." she starts to beg, but unsure of how to finish her request.

"Hm?" he pulls away to pay closer attention to the dripping girl's needs.

"I... I want you," she says weakly.

"I want _you_," he returns, putting off a proper response to hear it come out of her, teasing the rest of her body with his tongue.

"Just do me already!" she surprises herself with her straightforwardness and assertiveness, enticing Raphael with such a demand.

"My pleasure," he says while undoing his pants and releasing himself. He presses against her, teasing her one last time before penetrating the heavily moistened virgin.

"Ah!" she lets out as he lets in, with a higher pitch than she normally would speak in. Careful not to hurt the inexperienced girl, he pushes in slowly, feeling her stretch tightly around him, devouring his fullness. Even though her response to his entrance sounded delightful to Raphael, he couldn't possibly continue if he knew he was hurting her.

"Are you feeling alright?" he softly checks, slowing down significantly.

"I... I'm fine, I think," she answers honestly, not expecting her first time to feel like... this. She wasn't really in any pain, but she wasn't necessarily satisfied either. She expected it to be better, and Raphael reassures her.

"Just give it a minute. I'll make you feel amazing," he promises, running his hands up her sides and pulling her back up toward him to ensure a more comfortable starting position. She now rests with her bottom on the table, arms flung around his thick neck as he pushes into her. He backs out and pushes back in, this time slightly deeper. After a few times of this repetitive motion, he fulfills his promise to her, keeping her wet and excited. Their lips forceably meet again, cutting off any sound escaping Amy's mouth until they can no longer breathe and have to separate.

Raphael picks up speed, and over time lowering Amy back down on to the table without exiting her small body. Aligned perfectly, he thrusts into her, watching her breasts sway through her nightgown. Wanting to see more of her, he pulls the lace-trimmed neckline down below her breasts, exposing her completely with just one hand. Her nipples harden at both the excitement and at the coldness of the air surrounding her while Raphael continues feeling her insides, pushing her body across the table in the process.

Before long she starts screaming, not in fear or frustration but in pleasure. He draws in her body by the hips, slamming roughly into the panting girl on the table. He lifts her left leg a little higher, allowing himself to go in deeper yet. Feeling a little faint from the excitement, the teen reaches for Raphael, arms stretched out before her. His hands meet hers halfway, and he pins her to the table when his fingers interlock with hers, never stopping, just like her moans and screams.

Even when she cums, he can't stop pleasing her. However he decides to make it better for the both of them and he pulls out of her, replacing his thrusting with gentle motions of his tongue refusing to let anything from her body land on the floor. She twitches as his tongue traces her swollen, throbbing labia, lapping up the sticky fluids selfishly. He wants all of it. When he has all of it, he wants more.

Certain that nothing else is flowing out any time soon, he pulls away from between her legs, licking the rest of her off his lips, and flips her entire body around. Her stomach now lying flat against the cold surface, he pulls her back so her knees firmly and comfortably rest on the cushioned stools beneath the table. He lowers himself to her again, tasting her some more before picking up where he left off. Her moans continue even after the sweet juices pour out of her, and Raphael continues licking her from behind even though nothing is left. He massages her firm cheeks which rest so closely to his face, slowly spreading them to make room for his tongue, seeking to explore absolutely every last part of her body. As his tongue teases her in soft circles, he begins stroking her already worked up clit, creating sensations in the girl she never knew were possible.

"That... feels... so good," the lightheaded teen eventually confesses, not expecting anything like that to feel as good as it does, and already she wants more.

"Good girl," he welcomes the girl's sexy comments, "just enjoy it, baby." Something about the way he speaks to her always leaves her under his spell and wanting more from him, and Raphael notices her hips moving against the table in sync with his tongue. He puts his finger where his dick was, feeling more wetness appear inside her, and then reconnects their intimate parts. Still a little loosened up from before, Amy immediately feels the pleasure shooting into her. She doesn't even pay attention to the edge of the table digging into her upper thigh every time he thrusts forward, but she figures she'll have two horizontal bruises there in the morning. She feels a hand slither up her side and landing on the side of her breast. She welcomes this, pushing herself away from the polished wood just enough to let him squeeze her plumpness and trap his hand there when she falls back down onto the table in heavy moan. He uses this gentle breast to control her entire body, bringing it toward him with every thrust.

Her arms flail about, trying to maintain some sort of stability on the table, and accidentally knocks over her empty glass of water. As it shatters on the floor, it's as if the sound it makes sets Raphael over the edge. He pulls out and roughly spins her back around and enters her again, guiding her body back toward him. Once she fulfills his silent command he picks her up and sets her against the wall facing the table, allowing for an even more satisfying penetration when instead of pulling her toward him, gravity does it for the two lovers as she sinks onto him. The back side of her thighs rest comfortably on his muscular arms, his hands gripping each cheek. His gentle but rough hands lift her up and drop her, drawing out cries of pleasure, want and satisfaction. He so badly wants to release inside of her at this point, but can't allow himself until she climaxes again, and he can tell it must be getting close to that time. She tightens around him involuntarily, crying out his name as her juices drip out once again, followed by him doing the same only seconds later.

He pulls away from the wall, finding the seat at the table he rested Amy's legs on and sits there with her in his lap. She supports herself by clinging onto his neck, resting her head on his shoulder as if she was a young child being cradled by her father. She knew it was weird that the two felt this way, and also thought of each other romantically and sexually, but it didn't really matter to her. Everyone is flawed in one way or another, and these two would know if anybody did.

The two finally regain their breaths, hers before his but not by much, and he still is inside of her. Her short but well defined legs, decorated with her favorite fishnet stockings, dangle helplessly at his sides.

"You naughty little girl," Raphael laughs quietly.

"What?"

He stares at her for a moment in the darkness. As if she senses it, she pulls her head from his shoulder to look at him. "I think you need to be punished for the way you just acted."

"Punished?" still wet behind the ears, she doesn't quite catch on to his playfulness. "But I-"

"Sh," he interrupts, silencing her with a finger. "It'll be over before you know it."

"What are you going to do to MEEEEEE!" she screams her last word. Her last word as a mortal, something she would never be again. Although in almost as much pain as when she was cured from her cursed disease, she smiles contently and hopefully, looking to a dark, yet beautiful and perfect, future with Raphael.

As the last of her blood enters his body, she grows weak and her body becomes limp, just as she had experienced when he injected her with the cure for this wretched and now returned disease she so longed for.


	7. Because I Love You

Her eyes open. She finds herself in her own bed with no recollection of ever going to sleep. She remembers bits and pieces of information, minute details of what must have happened. The coldness of the air in the dining room. The sound of shattering glass, the weakness her body contained.

Raphael's warm touch. Everywhere.

_Must have really worn me out_, she thinks to herself, feeling the bruises on and inbetween her thighs. She gets out of bed, stumbling, and finds her way to the bathroom. With groggy eyes she reaches her toothbrush and spreads the paste on it. She grins into the mirror before brushing, rubbing her eyes when she thinks she sees something that isn't there.

Fangs. A closer look, and she notices her eyes match the color of the blood she needs to feast on from this point on. She smiles as she pokes the left fang, and then the right, admiring them after so long of missing them.

She drops her toothbrush when Raphael startles her, entering her bedroom without permission.

"Amy, go back to bed," he instructs her, and when she stands there disobediently, he forces her into the bed, not angrily or roughly but by picking her up and gently laying her back down.

"I'm not tired," she complains, sitting up.

"You will be. Don't you remember what it was like the first time?" he pushes her back down and reminds her of what the first couple weeks would be like for her. "Here, I got you something that should help." He pulls out a bag containing several bottles of blood that look so familiar to her.

"How did you find that?" she demands to know, having not told him what she did with her blood she kept for him.

"I found this," he answers, handing her a note she had written explaining her actions to Raphael, although she had never handed it to him.

"Oh," she realizes.

"Drink up," he insists, handing her a container of her own blood from her recent mortal life.

"What? No! That's yours!" she argues. She certainly wasn't going to drink her own blood. It seemed not right, and in an odd sense, a bit narcissistic.

"You need it. It will help you recover quickly," he tries to sway the stubborn young vampire, but she refuses to listen.

"No. I didn't keep that in storage for myself," she argues.

"Let's not do this the hard way, Amy," he warns, sounding a bit eager to make her do something against her will.

"Let's not do this at all," she competes, gripping onto her blanket and tossing over. "I'll be fine."

He rolls her back over and pulls her up, resting her against the wall, refusing to take no for an answer. He uncaps the container and puts it to her mouth. "Drink it." She looks away from Raphael, keeping her mouth closed tightly. As if giving up trying to force her, he sighs and absently plays with her hair until she looks back in his direction. He smiles sweetly but subtly at her, caressing the side of her face, leaning in to kiss the stubborn girl. Her lips return the kiss, and she soon tastes the blood she refuses to drink coming from Raphael's mouth. He quickly pulls away as soon as he transfers it to her, forcing her mouth shut with one hand and plugging her nose with the other. "Drink it," he repeats. She swallows.

"You tricked me," she says in disgust.

Raphael smiles in triumph, satisfied to have won this round with her. And he was prepared to do it as many times as it took for her to learn to do it herself until they could find more blood. He couldn't possibly face losing her. "Only because I love you."

She smiles sweetly back at him. "I love you too."


End file.
